76
by heavenlyhell0987
Summary: Don't be mistaken. The rebels won the war and Katniss Everdeen is the face of victory. There is one more Hunger Games, a finale to end all evil. A lesson to teach the Capitol. Ericka Snow is reaped. Are the odd's in her favor.
1. Chapter 1

The hunger games.

Click, clack.

Click, clack.

The sounds of the teacup and saucer falling to the ground fill my ears and I remembered the day I knew my time was limited.

It had been an average day, or as average as it could get with the rebellion. For the last few days the Capitol had been screaming and crying. The peacekeepers were blowing up buildings, sending out these horrible. Brutal. Terrifying. Monsters to find the rebels. I had been locked inside my grandfather's house.

I guess it's not really much of a house. It's a grand palace complete with hordes of servants and chefs.

But no one else. Just me and grandpa and the servants and that's all.

And then it was just me.

I was on one of the lux couches watching the holograms when I saw two arrows fly. One at my grandfather, one at District 13's president, Coin.

No tears filled my eyes as his snow white hair matted in blood. The capitol was no more, for President Snow was dead. His life flashed before my eyes. I remembered the stories of his murders. I remembered the smell of blood and roses. I remembered the thud of his footsteps walking away after he tucked me in at night.

A hoarse scream escaped my lips. Part of the reason was that he was gone. But I'm thirteen, not three. I knew there would be some form of revenge. And I knew they would make an example of me.

My suspicions were confirmed as I watched another holographic broadcast.

There would be one more hunger games, but the games would only include the capitol teens. And I had a feeling these game makers wouldn't play nice with Snow's granddaughter.


	2. Chapter 2

My life has been in auto pilot for a while. I've been trying to live a normal life these last few days before the reaping. The final reaping. I've woken up, played piano, kept my room tidy, brushed my hair. But everything is different. I haven't gone to school. It's too dangerous for me out in the real world with all the rebels lurking around. Who know's what they'll do to me? Oh wait, I already know. Put me in the arena.

I've been making a few slight changes in my lifestyle as well. I've been eating lighter. I've ran two miles everyday. I've shunned my pretty dresses. If I wanted to survive the games I had to toughen up a little.

But I'm not tough.

I'm small for my age, like Katniss Everdeen. I'm fast and light footed, like Katniss Everdeen. But that's where the comparisons end. Katniss Everdeen is strong, with spirit and friends and a husband and fans. And I'm Ericka. Green eyes, Blonde hair, plain old Ericka. The only thing that make's me the slightest different than a district child is my home and my relation to Snow. I don't follow the crazy capitol trends, I just bury myself in music and school work. Nothing too significant. But I'm evil. I'm an evil little girl and that's why the districts want to kill me and twenty three other children. Because our parents hurt them, and that makes us evil.

I've been trapped in those thoughts. I can't take them anymore. So I'm done with auto pilot, and I'm done with philosophy. I just have to live or die. And if I die it will be of old age or sickness. I will die at no one's hand. I have to win the games.

That won't matter though. If I win the rebel's will still kill me. How could they pass on the opportunity to execute Snow's granddaughter? I'll have to run after I win. It's not fair. I didn't do anything, I was just a child in the house of an evil king. I was never even a fan of the games. It's not fair. It's not fair! Those hypocrites hated the games so much, so they decided to hold another one!

And I was thinking on auto pilot again. I have to stop that.

I desperately brushed my curly hair to no use. They still fell in fluffy spirals. I picked out a plain blue blouse and darker blue skirt. I already knew I was making a statement, or rather an anti-statement. How would a plain girl like me compare to the colorful beauties known as the capitol children?

I had no one to walk me to the town square. There was obviously no one left that loved me. Instead I walked bravely and alone and stood in line with nervously chatting girls. Even today their looks weren't muted. My age group wasn't as bold as the adults. We were still relatively normal. But most of the kids over fourteen were strange looking. Facial tattoos and colorful hair was trending. Plenty of girls had outrageous eyelash extensions. The boys weren't too tame looking, either. Plenty of them look like they were surgically enhanced with muscles to die for. Or rather to kill with.

A woman in a helmet and black suit pricked and stamped my finger onto a note card with my name on it. Just like all the other teenagers. But in our hearts we both knew I was different. She looked into my eyes for a moment. Her expression held a little bit of hatred, a little bit of pity, a lot of disrespect. I can't say I blame her. I would hate me too if I didn't know me. But no one really knows me.

I stood between two girls much bigger than I, talking above my head. They must've thought they were safe. In retrospect, they should feel safe. The reaping was obviously fixed. My name would be drawn.

"You know how this works, right?" Said one girl with butterfly lashes to another.  
The girl to my right, with a purple afro shook her head.  
"Turns out 13 had to get creative with the reaping. They're doing it by blocks. They broke them up into twelve categories. We're the only one's meeting in an actual square."

That made sense. There's only one capitol. We were in the center, where the richest of the rich live. I guess they would break it up in puzzle pieces.

A capitol woman walked onto a platform in 11 inch high heels. She was dressed in an extravagant black ball gown with grey feathers decorating it. She was a mockingjay, or at least a sad capitol version of one.

"Hello children of the capitol." She greeted us cheerfully.

These people were obviously newbies. They clapped and cheered to her. They obviously still liked the drama of the hunger games, even if there was a slight chance of them dying this time.

"Today we have a message from the District 13."

This video was definitely different. It started off the same as every year. With a nuclear war and the capitol taking control. But it spun off into footage of particularly brutal deaths from the hunger games, and shot's of Katniss killing Snow.

I bit down hard on my bottom lip to keep from shouting. I tasted blood and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. The girls next to me looked as if I had grown a second head.

As per usual, the woman explained what was going on.

"This year the Hunger Games have been arranged by the District 13 as a farewell to all other Hunger Games. It is an honor to represent the Block 1 of the capitol." She gushed more about how honored she was to be the escort of us and ignored the fact that OUR parents were the real evil masterminds.  
"Ladies first." She said and carefully walked to the glass bowl with the female names. Everyone around me tensed.

"Ericka Snow." She announced, and everyone cheered. I have no doubt that every single name in that bowl was mine.

I stumbled out of line and walked down the aisle to the platform standing next to the escort.

"And now for the boys." She said. My heart was beating faster. I had still hoped it wouldn't be me. But I deserved this, I guess.  
"Hex Liam." She proclaimed.

A boy fearlessly walked onto the stage. I barely recognized him. It wouldn't matter though, he was just another face to kill. But it was a good looking face. He was definitely my age; I think I have seen him in school. He had straight black hair that covered his eyes. He wore all black and a scowl. The only color on him was his olive skin and blue highlights.

Before I knew it I was on a beautiful train with fancy foods and such. I realized that this would be the exact same as the years before, only in reverse. I couldn't touch anything on this train, and neither did the boy. Instead we silently sat together in a small car, glaring at nothing.

"Your last name is Snow?" He asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the floor.  
"Yes."  
"You're not related to…"  
"Yes."

His eyes darted up to meet mine. They were so dark they were almost black.

"I'm sorry." He muttered. "And I thought I had it bad."  
I raised my eyebrows and signaled for him to carry on.  
"Mom's a peacekeeper, so are all my brothers. My dad was a game maker. The one that should have killed Katniss, but didn't. Your granddaddy killed him."  
"I'm sorry." I muttered back.  
He grinned a little. "I never liked him anyways."

We sat in silence for a little longer.

"You know you'll have it bad, right?" He asked after a while.  
"No kidding."  
"So it would be pretty bad to be your ally, right?"  
"That's obviously what the rebels were thinking when they made sure my name would be called."  
He nodded, considering this. "Well, Ericka, keeping in mind that it's because of the rebels that I'm here, I think I want to rebel against their way of thinking a little."  
I smiled, shocked. "Are you talking about a strategy?"


	3. Chapter 3

A.N. This chapter is for the only reviewer I have. You know who you are. (I don't. You're anonymous.)

Hex and I had just arrived at the hotel. Diamond, our escort, has been trying to provoke us into a conversation. She was the escort for District one these last few years. District one is full of careers; they probably had no problem with talking to the escort. She thought that the capitol children would be even more chatty, or at least more emotional. But I'm not the typical capitol teen. And I don't think Hex is either.

Hex has surprised me. I'm skeptical. He seems very down to earth, the way he is free of an accent. And he's a rebel, against the rebels, proposing an alliance to the first girl on the kill list. And he doesn't talk much. He gets straight to the point. Then again, I'm like that, too. Poor Diamond must be very confused.

These games aren't a quell, but they may as well be. They're entirely predictable in the fact that they're going to be different. That's all we really sure. Maybe 13 will take mercy on the capitol teens, knowing we're not as capable. Or maybe the games will be an act of vengeance against us. Either way, the capitol is getting entertainment. The capitol isn't dead. The capitol spirit will never die. Most people of the capitol aren't into politics anyways. They're just under…new management. And the capitol is thirsty for blood.

I don't want to get too close to Hex. There's always the possibility he'll die. Or worse. I'll have to kill him. But I'll do it. Maybe I'll just pull an Everdeen and take out some berries. But 13 wouldn't care if I did that. They actually DON'T have to have a victor. I'm starting to realize that my life is over. I'll forever be Snow's granddaughter. If I die… Well, I'll just be part of the lesson 13 is teaching the world. I don't want to be a pawn in their game.

Glass doorways lined with the new soldiers appeared as the train stopped. The new soldiers certainly had a new look to them. Their outfits were designed by a victor Beetee. They look like the uniforms worn by the tributes in the last quarter quell.

We were shuffled into a glass elevator. It went so high so fast I could see anything. Then the doors dinged and I stepped outside.

It took Diamond's breath away. She was obviously faking the awe, though. She's from the capitol. We all are this year. Nothing will impress us.

"So, this is where we will be staying for a short time. Magnificent, huh?" She asked in one of the most outrageous accents I've heard.  
"It's cool." Hex shrugged, just as unphased by all the silver appliances and holographs as I was.  
Diamond frowned. "Sarcasm will get you nowhere, Hexagon."

I couldn't hold back my surprised smile.  
"Hexagon?" I asked.  
"Shut up," He said with well hidden embarrassment. "I didn't name myself, you know."  
I rolled my eyes, amused.

Diamond continued to rant.

"You know, you should be so much more appreciative of this space. It's probably the best you've ever had…in the last few weeks. Ms. Everdeen has done her best to make sure that this year's tributes are in their most definite state of tranquility."  
I held back a glare. Hex seemed to be doing the same.  
"Why?" I shot. "Oh yeah, I remember. She's trying to juxtapose our bodies that way the arena will seem more deadly. A lot deadlier if you factor in that we're from the capitol."  
"The deadly arena which will kill us, by the way." Hex reminded her.

She stuck her nose up. "_Such rude children! Such bitter, rude children_. Haven't your parents taught you better?"  
"I never had parents." Hex and I snapped at the same time.

I never had parents, but I thought Hex did. Or at least that's what I could tell from the train ride.

"They might as well be dead. I never saw them." He explained, reading my mind. "The poor, pitiful districts aren't the only ones with tortured pasts."

Diamond turned her silver lips down in a frown once again. She ignored our grim statements.

"Obviously there are no victors to mentor you this year." She said. "However; it has been decided that trainers from the Capitol shall teach you. Now, I think you are in better hands this year than all the other years. These trainers have never been in the games, but they know them. They have studied the games, learned how they work. They learned what you need to learn. They might as well be victors for every single game in the history of games!" She cried, delighted.  
"The history of games that the capitol started? The terrible history that should have ended last year, but didn't because even the districts admit they want a little entertainment, a little revenge?" He almost growled.

I'm pretty sure Diamond had given up on us just then. She probably wasn't expecting two sad teenagers, none the less Capitol teenagers. And especially not Block One Capitol Teenagers.

But we weren't your average rich kids.

Diamond had retreated to her bedroom to write in a journal, no doubt complaining about us. Hex and I had been sitting on one of the beautiful, clean, white couches. Not saying anything. We both liked it that way; good and silent. I glanced over at him. His dark eyes were glazed over, lost in his own thoughts. I was too nervous to get trapped into a dazed trance. I desperately wanted to bounce around, squeal a little bit. But that's something the old, happy Ericka would do. She would be bawling at this situation. But I'm not the old Ericka anymore. For some reason I felt as though that name didn't suit me anymore…

Almost ten minutes later the door slid open. A man stepped in. He was tall and muscular, with no hair on his head.

Diamond had bounded out of her room at the same time the door opened. She had quickly embraced the man and kissed him on both cheeks.

His eyes widened surprise and he awkwardly shoved her away. She ignored that.

"Hello, Mr. Creed!" She cheered.  
He raised his eyebrows calmly. "Who are you?"  
She looked taken aback. "I'm Diamond Trail. The escort for block one."  
"I'm here for the children."  
She scowled. "Well, the only two children are those, obviously." She pointed at us. "And as you can see they're just sulking away."  
He brushed her off and walked towards us. He sat between us on the couch, sitting strait and strong and silent. Hex looked like he could care less and I mimicked his expression. He waited until Diamond left the room again.

"Gods, is she always like that?" He asked in his gruff, deep voice.  
"Oh yes, always." Hex smirked. "We've known each other a long time."  
"Ever since she announced our names as tributes in the death games." I added helpfully.

The man, Mr. Creed, threw his head back a little in exasperation.  
"I'm here for a reason." He said. "To make sure you survive these death games."  
"Frustrated so fast?" Hex snorted. "You're really gonna hate us."

I don't know why but I felt a little happier when he said 'us'. Like I'm like him.

Mr. Creed chose to ignore our bitterness, which has been happening a lot today, and carry on with his speech.

"You will make it out alive." He said. "I promise."

Hex looked over at me and raised his eyebrows, signaling me to say something.

"Nice strategy." I noted. "You're not talking to one of us in particular. Because you know that even with when you're as successful as you can be, there's still going to be only one of us alive. And that's only if the other 22 from the other blocks die first."  
Mr. Creed bit his lip. "My job is to make sure you both have a better chance of living than anyone else. That's my strategy. You don't have to listen to me. But that's your choice."

I nodded approvingly. Fair point, Mr. Creed. Fair point. 


End file.
